I always hate it when I have to kill a guy in the middle of dinner. It spoils my appetite. But when the man across the diner pulls out his gun and fires at me, I have no regrets about returning the favor.

His shot goes wild, just above my left shoulder, where it impacts the wall behind me. I quickly dive beneath the table and get my gun out of the holster inside my jacket. I fire two shots rapidly at the man and he fires another one. I must've hit him, since he squeezes out one more shot that hits the ceiling before he falls on the floor. I wait a few more seconds before getting up from behind the table and walk over to him, where he is lying in a pool of blood. The whole exchange had taken less than five seconds. Everybody in the diner just stares at me, too stunned to do anything.

I kick the body a few times and, seeing no reaction, I leave him. I don't look for an ID. Doesn't matter, I have a pretty good idea who sent him. I walk over to the counter and slap down some bills on it by the cash register. "Sorry about the mess," I mutter, and walk outside into the night. I quickly glance up and down the street, but I don't see any cars speeding away, so the guy was alone. Figures. It starts to rain, so I raise my jacket collar and pull my hat down while I slowly walk down the rainy, late night street, trying to hail a cab and planning my next move.

I finally got a cab and arrived back at my place. I look around for someone hiding in the shadows outside. Seeing no one, I go in. After climbing the stairs, I instinctively check the door jamb to my room. The match stub is still in place, so it's safe, I figure. Paranoid, you say? You're only paranoid if they're not out to get you, and this simple trick has saved my butt more than once.

Inside, the room is dark, intermittently lit by the flashing sign across the street. Satisfied, I turn the light on and walk over to the table. I pour about two fingers of whiskey and sit down, the events at the diner going through my mind. The button man didn't surprise me. In this line of business you come to expect things like that. I take another sip of whiskey while I go over the events of the last few days.

It was over two weeks ago when the newspapers reported the death of a local crime boss, Humphrey Dumphrey, a.k.a. Humpty Dumpty. He was found at the base of the Wall and taken to Kings hospital, where they were unable to put him back together again. I knew the area and I wondered why someone like him was there. This was no suicide, I thought, he was pushed. He had enemies, sure. But this wasn't their style.

I didn't think twice about it until later, when I got two visitors, a man and a woman. The two of them walked into my office and stood before my desk.

"My name is Horneer, Jack Van Horneer. This is Jill. Are you the private dick on the door?" he asks.

Yeah, that's me. What can I do for you?"

"We want you to investigate the Dumphrey murder."

"Murder, you say. I heard it was a suicide. He jumped," I reply.

"He was pushed!" the woman exclaims.

I stare at both of them for several seconds before replying. "Okay, my standard fee is $50 a day plus expenses. And I have a three day minimum charge."

The man takes out his wallet and puts five c-notes on my desk.

'Is this enough for now?" he says.

I look at the bills on my desk, trying to control my excitement as I casually take them and stuff them in my pocket.

"Okay. What can you tell me about what happened?"

"Not much. I was with him when he got a call and said he had to leave right away. I asked if I should go with him and he said no; he would be right back. He didn't come back, and we read about it in the newspaper the next day."

"Okay, let's be honest. Humphrey was a local crime boss. He had enemies, right?"

"Right," the man mumbles.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to the cops. Something tells me this wasn't a regular hit, and that's what you think too, right?"

"Yes," he mumbles again.

"Okay. Were one of the other bosses getting greedy? Is it someone new trying to muscle into his territory?"

"No, not the other bosses. They know the deal. And as far as I can tell no one was moving in on him."

I lean back in my chair and stare at them. My gut instinct tells me to tell them to get the hell out of my office. This sounded big, too big for someone like me.

"I'd like to help, but this sounds like it's out of my league." I reach in my pocket to pull out the bills when the man puts down five more on the desk. I glance up at him, and then at the bills. This is some serious money here, I think. My better judgment failed, and I took my hand back out of the pocket, empty. "Okay, do you know who he was meeting?"

"No."

Has this happened before, leaving like this?"

The man thought for a moment. "Yes, twice before, about a month ago."

"No idea then, either?"

"No."

I look at the two of them. This is damn little to go on. "Okay, give me a number to reach you at and I'll start making some inquiries," I say, handing him a notepad.

The man writes down a number and tosses the pad onto the desk. He then glances at the woman and they both leave without another word. As I look down at the bills on the desk, I wonder what I'd gotten myself into.

The next few days are spent traveling around town, checking my local contacts. In each case none of them knew anything. Whoever did this was good, leaving no traces behind. I had one more contact, my best one.

I finally find him in one of his usual hang outs, a private country club outside the city. The doorman made it apparent when he saw me that he wasn't going to let me in. I slip him a twenty and that fixes that.

Inside, I see Willie with a group of people, talking eagerly to them. I sit down at the bar and order a drink, making sure he sees me. About half way through my drink, he walks over and sits next to me.

"What'cha doing here? I got a thing going on and you're gonna ruin it," he says quietly.

"What is it this time, Willie? African prince or something? Is there a diamond mine involved?"

"You got it. These rich people are easy to scam. I just flash a wad, wear some diamonds and they rise to the bait. Add a way to avoid paying taxes on it and they are in."

"All counterfeit, of course."

"Of course."

"Look, I don't give a damn about these rich people. Take all you want. I need info. A client wants me to investigate the Humphrey Dumphrey death. They say it's murder."

"Wow. You sure can pick 'em. Cheating husband's business a little slow?"

"Yeah," I reply sarcastically. "Look, you're my best contact. I can make it worth your while." I pull out a c-note and push it over to him. I could see his eyes go wide.

"Okay," he says, grabbing the bill. "Give me a few days."

I finish my drink and leave the bar. Willie went back to his group, probably telling them that he just had a meeting with another buyer and the price was higher now.

******

Two days later I got a call from Willie. He tells me to meet him in a bar downtown. I arrive early and I'm surprised to see him already there. I sit down in the booth and notice that he seems very nervous, always looking at his watch and at the street outside.

"Okay, Willie, what do you have?"

"Not much, man. This case is tight," he replies nervously.

"Then why the hell did you drag me down here if you have nothing?" and I started to get up.

"No, wait, wait. I know someone who can still help you. Someone higher up."

"Who?"

"The Muffin Man."

That was a name that rang a bell for me. I had heard his name mentioned in whispers. Someone very elusive, very secretive.

"Do you know the Muffin Man?"

"Well, kind of," Willie says meekly.

"Do you know the Muffin Man!" I shout, not caring who hears me.

"Easy, easy. Yeah, I know him. I know the Muffin Man," he replies nervously.

"How do I find him?" I ask, barely containing my anger.

"You don't find him. He finds you," Willie says quietly, glancing around the room.

Brilliant, I think. "Okay, then what do I do now?"

"I'll call someone who calls someone and he gets the message. That's all I can do."

I sit back in the cubicle, staring at him while he continues to fidget and look out the window.

"What's got you all worked up? I've never seen you like this before."

"It's nothing, nothing. Look, I gotta go. You can pay me later."

I almost jump out of my seat when I hear that. This isn't the Willie I knew. Something has him really spooked. He goes to the front door, glances around outside and rushes down the street.

******

A few days later I got a call at the office.

"I understand you've been looking for me," the caller says.

"Are you the Muffin Man?" I ask sarcastically.

"Meet me at the Williams speakeasy on Fifth in one hour."

"Who are you?" I say, but he has already hung up.

******

I walk into a darkened speakeasy an hour later. It's early and the place is mostly empty. I go to the bar and tell the bartender I'm looking for someone special. He glances across the room and nods at a man alone in a booth in the back. I walk over and sit down opposite him.

"Are you the Muffin Man?" I ask.

"I am."

"Willie said I needed to meet you. I'm trying to find leads on a case about the death of Humphrey Dumphrey."

"Indeed."

"Do you have information about this?"

"Possibly."

I was getting tired of this game and started to get up when he stopped me.

"Please stay seated, sir, I don't mean to be obtuse. But as you may have guessed, this is more than a simple murder case. There may be more at stake than you realize. Yes, he was a local crime boss, but I think he may have gotten involved in something too big for him and was silenced as a result. The fact that all your leads have turned up nothing can only mean big money, big power. I must approach this with finesse."

"I need some information about Humphrey; my client says he was murdered."

"Go back to your office and wait. I will call you." Just then the bartender walks over and whispers in the man's ear.

"I have to go now," he says. "Contact your friends at the police department. I believe they have some news for you." He then leaves without another word.

******

The cab drops me off in front of the police station. I walk in and see my old partner talking with some others. Seeing me, he leaves the group and walks over to me.

"We just got word, two of Dumphrey's people, Jack and Jill Van Horneer were found at the base of the Hill, pretty banged up. They took them to the hospital."

"Any leads?"

"No witnesses right now. Does this have anything to do with Dumphrey?"

"I don't know," I replied and left the station.

******

At the hospital I asked the doctor about the Van Horneers. He says they both had severe concussions and injuries from their fall. Both were unconscious and he expected them to be that way for several hours. Walking outside, I kept wondering what could cause Jack and Jill to go tumbling down the Hill? Were they pushed, like Humphrey Dumphrey? I decided to check out the scene Dumphrey was last seen at.

******

The cab lets me off at the Wall. It wasn't really a wall, just a long, tall, brick embankment that now separated the city on top from the Shantyville and docks below. A rail, worn and in disuse, ran the length of it to keep people from accidentally falling over it. Yeah, right. Thank goodness it was rarely visited, so I might be able to find a clue. Dumphrey drove instead of having his driver take him. Very unusual. That meant he was alone and he didn't want anyone to know where he was for this meeting. But with who?

On the ground I see several cigarette stubs. Was someone standing here, waiting nervously for him to appear, smoking cigarette after cigarette? Upon closer examination, I see two different brands of cigarette stubs on the ground. Two people smoking and waiting to meet him? Just in case, I stash the stubs in my pocket.

******

I then go to the Hill and look around. It was a lonely, isolated spot. Perfect for a secret meeting, and for getting rid of someone, too. I see some cigarette stubs on the ground. I pick up the stubs and compare them with the ones I found at the Wall. Some of them matched. That means the same person was at both locations. A hit man? I needed to get back to my office.

******

When I get there, I notice the matchstick is on the floor. I pull my gun out of its holster and slowly turn the door knob before bursting into the room. A man is sitting at my desk, smoking a cigarette. He looks up at me, momentarily startled by my quick entrance and my gun pointing at him.

"Who are you?" I demand.

"Who I am is unimportant. You were recently approached by two of Mr. Humphreys' people a few days ago. They asked you to investigate his death."

"Yeah, so what?" I reply, still pointing my gun at him.

"I want you to stop your investigations. It was a suicide, plain and simple. He was overwrought and despondent. What happened was sad."

"They said he was pushed."

"Really?" the man replies. "Do you have any proof?"

No, not yet."

"And you won't find any." He takes out his wallet and puts five c-notes on the desk. "This is for your trouble."

"Horneer gave me a thousand."

The man looks at me briefly and then puts some more bills on the desk. "Here's $1500. You have been more than compensated for your trouble. My advice is that you take the money and forget you ever heard about Humphrey Dumphrey and go about your usual work." He gets up, squashes his cigarette in the ashtray and leaves.

I look at him as he shuts the door behind him and I sit down at my desk. I look at the bills on my desk and think about what he said. The guy must be a heavy smoker, judging by the number of stubs in the ashtray. Just out of curiosity I take out the cigarette stubs I had collected and compare them to the ones in the ashtray. They matched.

******

The next day I got a call from my friend on the force. He asks me to come down to the docks at East 42nd street. I ask why and he just says to get down there right away.

The cab drops me off at the dock. It's easy to spot with all the police cars around it. A crane is pulling a car from the river onto the dock, a late model Caddy from the looks of it. Expensive. Inside is a figure that I immediately recognize. It was Willie.

My friend from the force walks over to me.

"A guy going to work saw something suspicious in the water. He called us and this is what we found."

"Willie the Wimp," I say. "In a Cadillac coffin. How poetic."

"Any idea why this happened?" he asks. "I know we used to use him as an informant when we worked together. That's why I called."

"I'm working a case; I asked him for some leads a few days ago. That's all I know."

"Looks like he messed with something he shouldn't have. What is the case? If you're not careful you could end up like Willie, here."

"I can't go into details."

"Well, watch your back."

"I always do."

"This time I mean it."

******

I had the cab drop me off at my office. After going over my notes, I decided it was late and walked to a nearby diner to eat and collect my thoughts. I was thinking that nothing in this case made any sense and now my best contact was gone. That's when the man across the diner fires his gun at me.

******

Anyways, that's where I'm at now, sitting in my place with a glass of whiskey in my hand. Dumphrey found out something and was killed. Willie got too close with his questions and was silenced too. Same about Jack and Jill, I figured. And now someone was worried about me and tried to get rid of me, too. I was beginning to reconsider this case again.

******

I got a call the next day; it's the Muffin Man. He tells me to meet him in an hour in the same place as before. I go back to the speakeasy and see him sitting in the back. He sees me and gestures me to sit down opposite him.

"You've heard about Willie, I assume. Poor Willie, they say he had a hundred dollar bill wrapped around his little finger. They sent him off in a very nice style."

"Yeah, but that's not why you asked me to come here, is it?"

"No. Except to tell you that Humphrey was involved with a government agency."

"Humpty Dumpty was working with the Feds?" I say incredulously, not believing what I heard.

"Yes, something very high level, very hush-hush."

"Also, I was contacted by someone. He was waiting for me in my office. He paid me $1500 to get off the case. Later some guy took potshots at me in a diner."

"Indeed," he replies slowly, looking at me.

"And that's not all. I found several cigarette stubs at the Wall and the Hill. One brand was at both scenes, and the guy in my office was smoking the same kind." Hearing that news evidently piqued his interest from his reaction.

"I don't suppose you have those stubs on you?" cocking his eyebrow.

"I do," and handed him a small wrapper with some stubs in it. He took the pack and put it in his coat pocket.

"That's all I have for you now. I'll be in contact."

He gets up from the table and walks to a car waiting outside the bar. I hail a cab and go back to my office.

******

Later, I decided to take a look at one of Dumphrey's warehouses that I knew of that he used to distribute his whiskey across the country. Booze came in from Canada, molasses and rum from the Caribbean. It was on the lower east side, just another nondescript building like the others that filled the area.

But this one is abandoned, and closed tighter than a drum. Heavy chains and locks are across all the doors. I walk around the building, looking for a way to get in. The doors that weren't chained were locked shut. Why would anyone go to all this trouble for a place they had abandoned? I see a ladder lying next to another building. I take it and lay it against the fire escape on the side. Once on the escape, I make it to the roof, hoping that there is a roof door they had forgotten about, When I get to the top I see it. Walking over I try the doorknob and it turns in my hand.

Opening the door, I carefully make my way down the dark steps until I get to the dimly lit interior. The entire area had been cleaned out, not a single thing was left. And it had happened recently. There was no dust on the floor or on the few pieces of furniture in the offices. Again, why someone would go to all this trouble bothered me. I had seen operations close up when things got too hot for them, but nothing like this.

A couple of things struck me as odd. On the wall were heavy power conduits, conduits that would have supplied more juice than a warehouse would need. I walk over to examine them when I hear something crunch under my shoe.

I look down and see what looks like pieces of glass. No, not just glass, but a test tube! Just like the ones I saw in the mad scientists movies. I pick it up and look at it closely. Why does a booze running operation need test tubes? Other than that, the floor looks clean. More than just clean, swept clean to remove any traces, except for this one test tube accidentally left behind.

It was getting dark, so I decided it was time to leave. I go back up the roof and leave the same way I came. I put the ladder back where I got it so no one would suspect anything and walked back to the street to get a cab.

******

I return to my place and after checking the match stub, go inside. Pouring myself a drink, I go over what I had found out. Dumphrey was working with the Feds, doing something secret for them. Did he find out more than what he was supposed to know? Possibly, and that got him killed. And why would the feds be interested in just another booze runner? What did he have that they wanted? And whatever he was involved with must be pretty important to clean out a warehouse like they did. There was one other thing I could do. Dumphrey had another warehouse on the other side of town. I could check it out and hope that it was still working. But that was for tomorrow. Today I was bushed and decided to turn in early after a light meal.

******

The next day I got a cab and it let me off several blocks away from the warehouse. Carefully observing the building from a distance, I watch the trucks come and go. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary from what I could see. After several hours I decided to return that night to see if I could get a closer look.

I returned later near midnight. The place is still busy. Hiding in the shadows I edge closer to the warehouse, trying to look inside. From what I could see everything looked normal. Crates were loaded off of trucks and onto them.

I see a group of what looks like laborers walking towards the warehouse. The night shift, I guess. I think about trying to join them, but I need to dress appropriately. I stayed a few more hours to observe the operation before leaving. I knew what I had to do the next day.

The next night I'm wearing some old clothes I bought at a thrift store. I wait for the group of workers and when they appear I move out to get behind them. None of them pay any attention to me as we walk into the warehouse. Inside a man starts to divide us up. One group goes to one area, another group with me in it goes to another.

From what I could see inside it looks normal enough, men handling and stacking crates. Incoming crates are stacked in one area according to some sort of system. The foreman in charge is pretty particular about how they were stacked. Crates that go out are stacked in another area on the floor, where they stay after being brought out from a closed section of the warehouse. I notice the same large conduits from the abandoned warehouse in this one too. They go back into the closed section. I also notice that none of the workers that work on the floor go into this area. The crates that are brought out from there were handled by a different group who quickly return to the closed area.

I try to get a glimpse of that hidden area, but they keep the doors closed unless a crate is being brought out and then they are quickly closed. Once I had a crate on a dolly when the doors opened and I moved toward them as if to put the crate inside. I was about to get inside when someone yelled at me.

"Hey, you! Get outta there! You don't belong there!" the foreman shouts.

I look at him as if I was confused and glance inside the room. I only get a glimpse before the door is shut.

"Hey! Get a move on! Put that crate over there or get out!" he shouts again.

I quickly put the crate where he pointed and went back for another. This evidently satisfied the foreman and he walked away.

I stayed till the end of the shift, but I never had another chance to look in the room again. At the end of the night they pay us and the men shuffle out of the warehouse. Some go into a nearby diner and I follow them, hoping to pick up some information. I sit next to two of them at the counter.

"Long night, huh?" I say.

"It's a job," one replies tiredly.

"My first night, pretty much the same every night?"

"Yeah."

I bend down low and whisper, "What do you think they're hiding in that room?"

"Don't know, don't care," he replies.

"One guy once saw what was in the room," the other man says quietly, bending over so no one hears him. "He started spouting some crazy stuff and they took him away. Never saw him again. If you're smart you'll do the same."

The rest of the meal is spent in silence. Afterwards, I walk to the main street and hail a cab. I go to my place, take a shower and go to bed. I only had a glimpse of what was in the room, but it definitely wasn't a distillery or anything associated with bootlegging.

******

I wake up in the afternoon and go to the hospital to check up on Jack and Jill. Jack is conscious; Jill died from her injuries. I went to Jack's room to see if he could give me any tips to go on. He's pretty banged up but he could talk, or mumble at least.

"Hello, Jack. Sorry to hear about Jill. Do you know who did this to you?"

"No," he mumbles.

"I got a tip that Dumphrey was working for the feds. Do you know anything about that?"

"No," he mumbles again.

"Let me tell you a theory I have. Dunphrey performed a service for the Feds, in return they let him run his bootlegging business free from interference. Maybe even tipped him off when raids were coming. I went to the warehouse on the Eastside. It's been completely shut down and swept clean. Nothing is left. I went to another one on the other side of town. It's busy, but they're not shipping booze."

Jack just looks away. After several moments he speaks. "I don't know anything about that or the people who ran them. Dumphrey just said they were associates. The money came in and we were happy. I just handled the books. Jill was in charge of shipping, managing the contacts in Canada and Florida."

"Also I was approached by this man. He told me to drop the Dumphrey case. He offered me 1500 dollars to back off," I emphasize. "The next thing I know someone is taking pot shots at me in a diner."

Jack looks at me. "You're getting closer."

"What happened on the Hill? I shout.

"A man called us and wanted to talk. We met at the Hill. Him and another guy. He said Humphrey started messing with things that didn't concern him. They offered us the same deal if we backed off. I said yes, Jill said no."

"Were they from the government?"

"They didn't say it, but they had Fed written all over them. Jill argued with them. I tried to calm her, but it got bad. We struggled and she accidentally fell over the edge. I tried to grab her and went over too. That's all I remember."

"Was either of the men tall, gaunt and chain-smoked?"

"Yeah, one guy was like that. Why?"

"He's the one who offered me the money."

******

After leaving the hospital I knew I had to get a closer look at that sealed area in the warehouse. I go back there that evening and carefully walk around it in the dark. Some windows are open a bit, but they're too high for me to reach. What about the roof skylights? Possible, if I could find a way onto the roof. A fire escape is there, like the other warehouse, but I couldn't reach it and there is no ladder around.

I look around and see some crates next to another building. I tried one, but it's too heavy to budge. I tried another and it's heavy too, but I could move it slowly. Now if I could just move it across the alley without anyone noticing. Fortunately it's dark and no trucks are passing by. I wait a few minutes to be sure I'm alone and then start pushing the crate.

It was slow going and by the time I had it in place I was exhausted. I rest for a short time and then climb up on the crate. I'm just barely able to reach the ladder and pull it down. Still tired from moving the crate, I slowly make my way up the fire escape and onto the roof. Peering over the edge, I see it is clear. I climb over it and carefully walk around the roof. It has several skylights and a door that leads inside. I turn the knob and I am surprised when it opens. Sloppy security, I think. Leaving the door for the moment, I go back to the skylights. I figure out which one is probably over the closed area and look down.

The glass panes are dirty and cracked, making it difficult to see what's below me. The floor is a hubbub of activity, with people constantly moving around, loading and unloading crates. I see large power conduits going to a row of machines against the wall. People are standing in front of them, adjusting knobs or something.

Off in a corner, I see what looks like a familiar figure in a group; it's the chain-smoking guy in my office. I watch him walk around, examining the equipment on the wall. Someone hands him what looks like a thermos bottle. Other thermos-like containers line the wall with pipes attached to them. He talks with the group some more and then leaves with two men. They go out the door and I see them get into a car and drive away.

I returned to the skylight to watch the operation some more. Apparently after the thermos containers were filled, they were then put inside a large, special container that was then put inside an ordinary crate. That crate was then wheeled through the doors to the outside. Other crates that were brought inside contained more canisters that were hooked up to the row of machines.

I watch this process for several hours until I decide I've seen enough. Was this the same kind of operation in the other warehouse that was cleared out? What was in those containers that were shipped out? What could make a crime lord like Dumpphrey want out? And then make them silence him to protect their operation? The chain-smoking guy, Cigarette Man as I call him, is definitely involved.

Just out of curiosity, I go over to the roof door that is unlocked and open it. The stairwell is pitch black. Gingerly, I feel my way down the stairs till I reach a door. Light is coming from around the edges. I carefully turn the knob and slowly open the door just a crack. Through the opening, I see the row of machines against the wall with the containers. People are busy taking them off the wall and placing new ones in their place. Deciding I had pushed my luck far enough, I carefully shut the door and went back up the stairs. Back on the roof I go back to the fire escape and start walking down. I freeze in mid step. There is a truck below me and men are loading it!

I quietly and quickly move back onto the roof, wondering what to do next. I'm trapped up here until the truck leaves. Trying to get down without the fire escape isn't an option. All I can do is sit and wait till they're done and hope that no one comes to the roof while I'm still there. I glance back at the truck below. They sure are taking their sweet time, I think. Finally after an hour or so, the truck is filled and it drives off. I wait several minutes after the last person goes into the warehouse to make sure nobody else appears. Finally figuring it is safe, I carefully make my way down the stairs.

Just as I come down the ladder, the door opens and someone comes outside with a cigarette in his mouth. He sees me on the ladder and stares at me in amazement. I fall the remaining distance to the ground and take off. The guy dashes inside, probably to tell the others as I tear off down an alleyway. I zigzag down between buildings, glancing behind me for signs of pursuit. I finally stop several blocks away and hide in a pile of crates. In the distance I can see men with flashlights walking around, but none come near me. After an hour I come out of hiding and make my way back to the main road where I finally get a cab and head back to my place.

******

Thinking how close that was, I went into my place and poured myself a stiff one. Sitting in the chair I mull over what I saw in the warehouse. That was no booze operation going on in there. Did Dumphrey find out what was going on and wanted out and he was killed to keep him silent? I need evidence, I think. But how? The warehouse people watch that place like a hawk. No way I can break into it. The trucks? Somehow stow aboard one and see where it goes? Risky, very risky. I had no idea where the trucks went, across town or across country? One thing is certain is that no one would suspect a stowaway in one of their trucks. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get into one on its way out and then get out at the destination without being discovered. Sure, easy as pie,,I muse. But that was something to think about tomorrow.

******

The next evening I went back to the warehouse. Seeing me last night must've spooked them. Men were standing around outside, watching the buildings and streets around them. No way I could approach the building without being seen.

Instead, I watched the trucks as they left the warehouse. They all followed the same route down the back way and onto the street. Occasionally one stopped for traffic before turning. I looked at the corner and found a spot in the shadows that I could hide in and watch the trucks go past.

It was slow going, only one or two every hour or so, and not all of them stopped. Finally I saw my chance. A truck stops to wait while two other trucks pass. I run out and climb over the tailgate into the back, hoping that the driver's attention is on the street in front of him. Apparently it was and he continues on like nothing happened. It's cramped in the back, but I find a space to settle down. Okay, part A of my plan has gone off without a hitch. Now all I have to do is make sure I get out before I'm discovered and hope the trip is short.

In spite of my best efforts I fell asleep. When I wake up the sun is shining. Now I'm in a city somewhere and we're driving down a nondescript street. After a while the driver turns into what looks like an industrial area. A large building with a fence and barbed wire is nearby. The truck looks like it's slowing down to make a turn into the area. Figuring this is its destination, I quickly jump out the back, hoping no one notices me.

I was right about the turn. The truck goes through a gate to one of the buildings in the fenced area. I walk around the perimeter looking for guards, but I don't see any. The fence is in poor shape. At one spot I see where I could work my way under it and get inside. I mark the spot and walk towards the main road, looking for a diner to get a bite and find a cheap hotel where I'll plan my next move.

******

I wait till midnight figuring that is when things will be at their laxest. I go back to the spot I marked and crawl under the fence. Staying in the shadows, I walk carefully towards the main building. All the windows are high up. No way I could look inside them. Things are busy at the loading dock. It looks like the same operation as the other warehouse. Other than that, things are quiet elsewhere. Try the roof like I did with the others? I found a fire escape, but no means to climb up it. Great. I think about mixing in with some workers; possible, but how? I select a spot that lets me observe the trucks unloading, figuring that was where people entered and left. I wait till dawn when my hunch proves right and a truck brings in a group of men to the loading dock and picks up the others. Okay, somehow I had to figure out how to mix in with the incoming men. It was getting light, so I thought I had better get out before I was spotted. I make my way unnoticed back to the spot in the fence and walk down the road. I'm exhausted from the trip and my all night vigil. I eat at a diner and go back to my hotel to get some rest.

******

The next day I got my first stroke of luck. At the diner, I make idle talk with some guys sitting at the counter. I'm wearing cheap clothes and look like any other working guy. I said I was new in town and looking for work. I asked off-handedly about the fenced-in building. One guy said he knew a guy who worked there for a while. They picked him up at a corner with a bunch of others and drove them in a truck to the place. When the shift was over they drove them back. I ask him where the corner is and after I leave the diner I get a cab to take me there.

I stay on the corner and watch the men waiting around for the truck to come pick them up. A guy bums me for a cigarette. I pull out one and casually ask him if this is the place where I could find work. He says yeah and walks away.

An hour later the truck comes by. A man gets out and tells us to get in. I got a spot where I could see the road to make sure I'm going to the right place. I was right and the truck dropped us off at the fenced in building. Once there we're broken up into groups and sent inside. The inside looks like the other warehouse, same loading and unloading, same closed off area. I'm busy moving crates when somebody calls out to me.

"Hey you!" the man yells out.

I look around, afraid I'd been discovered.

"Yeah, you! C'mere!"

I walk over to him, thinking about ways I could escape if they try to grab me.

"You, take those crates and move them into there when the doors open. We're short handed tonight. Don't touch anything, don't say anything, don't do anything except put the crates where they tell you. Got it?"

I just nod and start moving crates inside the sealed area. I couldn't believe my luck! Inside, the area looks the same as the other place, except there is a row of large steel cylinders against the wall. People took the canisters out of the crates and plugged them into receptacles next to each cylinder. They are either doing that constantly or monitoring stuff on the wall. The whole area looks like one of those mad scientist movies. A white vapor is coming out of the bottom of the tubes. The vapor is frigid, like a cold winter wind. As a matter of fact the whole room is cold and I start to shiver. But then I notice no one else seems to mind the cold. I was glad to go outside to get more crates since it gave me a chance to warm up.

They must've liked my work since I stayed there, loading and moving stuff around. The only time I'm spoken to is to perform some task. Things go smoothly through the night until something happens. I don't know what happened exactly, but a pipe or something to one of the cylinders ruptured. Gas blew across the floor from the break. Lights are flashing and all the people in there start running around, trying to fix the break. I don't know what that gas was, but I caught a whiff of it and immediately started gasping for breath. With only seconds to spare I rush out the door. But before I go through the door, I glance back and see someone opening the large cylinder connected to the broken pipe. I catch a glimpse of what is in there and it isn't human.

The gas spreads rapidly inside the warehouse and I can see men falling over, clutching their throats. I run as fast as I can, desperately trying to get a lungful of air. I collapse on the ground outside the building and just lay there, gasping for breath. After several long minutes I can finally breathe somewhat normally again. I look back at the loading dock and see several men on the ground. I don't know if they were alive or dead, but I guessed dead. I debated going back to the dock and decided not to. Getting up, I head to where I had slipped under the fence and leave the area. I'm sure I wouldn't be missed.

I'm still coughing occasionally and weak in my knees while I walk back to the road, the image of that open cylinder still flashing in my mind. It wasn't human, no doubt about that from what I could see. Human-like, was more like it. I finally make it to a diner, where over a cup of coffee I ponder my next step. Was this what Dumpfrey had discovered? If so, no wonder why he wanted out and why he was silenced. Is the chain-smoking guy one of them? Are those beings changed in those chambers, made more human? Why is the government involved? My head is spinning. This is big, way too big for a gumshoe like me. Common sense tells me to pack it in, tell Jack that I couldn't find anything and just leave the whole thing behind me. I needed some rest so I could think clearly. Yeah, tomorrow I'll decide what to do.

******

It was a long night, full of nightmares about what had happened. The next day I go back to the warehouse and examine it from the fence. I couldn't see any activity at the loading dock, the place looks dead. I debate getting closer, but decide to wait till it's dark to slip under the fence.

******

That evening I return to the warehouse and the place still looks dead with no activity. I slip under the fence and creep toward the building. No one is at the dock. The bodies that were outside have all been cleared away. I wait several minutes and see no one coming from inside. I go to a side door and open it slowly. The inside looks empty. I walk across the warehouse floor towards the sealed off area. I slowly open the door and look inside. It's hard to see in the dim light, but I see the same cylinders against the wall, but they are all empty now. One of the chambers still had a canister attached to it. I carefully pull it loose, checking to see if it still contains the poisonous gas that killed everyone. Fortunately it is empty, although I still detect a few traces that get me coughing. I quickly seal it up and look around for anything else that could be useful.

In the offices I search through the file cabinets for information about what was going on. I grab some papers that have what look like chemical formulas written on them. Another file has shipping forms for places across the country. I hit pay dirt when I see a series of papers to an office in Washington! It's a treasure trove of information, but it would take me too long to go through all of it. Chances were this location would be cleaned out like the other place. I stuff these papers and a bunch more into my shirt and leave the warehouse with them and the canister. I make my way back to the fence and slip away in the darkness.

******

Back in my room, I go through what I have found. A lot of information for me to study. Dumphrey was definitely working with the Feds, they used his network of warehouses and trucks to move stuff across the country. Paid him pretty well from what I could see. I look at my watch and see it's getting late, so I stuff the papers in the desk and put the canister in the closet. I then leave to get some dinner and luggage to carry it all in.

******

I arrive at the office the next day after a long train ride back. That's when I see the matchstick on the floor. I slowly open the door and look around. The place is deserted, but ransacked, the files and papers strewn everywhere. Someone had scoured the place while I was gone, but apparently didn't find what they were looking for. The envelope with money in it still taped to the bottom of the file cabinet. I grab it and stuff it in my jacket. Letters left by the postman had been opened. I hope the guy enjoyed looking at my bills. One simply labeled 'M.M.' was opened. I had a good idea who it was. It said to meet him tomorrow at a restaurant downtown. "Great," I think. If I went there now I would almost certainly be walking into a trap. And I had no way to warn him ahead of time, but maybe someone else could.

******

I walk into the restaurant and go to the maitre'd. He looks down at me and I slip him a twenty. I whisper "I'm looking for someone special. Do you know the Muffin Man?"

He looks at me for a moment and says "Perhaps,"and then looks away. I slip him another twenty. "What do you want?," he says, looking at me.

"He left me a note to meet him here tomorrow. My office was ransacked, which means someone we don't like may be here tomorrow waiting for me. I need to see him, but somewhere else. Can you warn him?"

He looks snidely at me for a moment and says "Maybe."

I slip him another twenty and he stuffs it with the others inside his pocket. "I'll see what I can do," and returns to his work.

******

I'm back in my office the next day, straightening things up and going over the papers I stole when the phone rings.

"Good work," the man says. "Things could've gotten messy. I've been trying to reach you."

"I've been out of town, I found out some very interesting things that you may want to know about."

"Indeed. Can you meet me this evening, at eight p.m. at the lounge at 10th and Main?"

"Sure thing. I got some stuff that will blow your socks off."

"Indeed," he replies, and hangs up.

*******

I met him that night, carrying the canister and papers in a suitcase with me. In the dark booth I told him how I had stowed aboard one of the trucks that left the warehouse, got inside another warehouse as a worker and managed to get a good look at the sealed off area with its steel cylinders. I talked about the accident that had almost killed me and probably everyone else there. I also told him what I had glimpsed inside the cylinder after the line ruptured. For emphasis I put the canister on the table. This startles him, but I assure him that it is safely sealed up.

I explained how I went back the next day and looked through all their files and grabbed what I could. He really lit up at this. I show him the papers and he spends several minutes going through them like a kid on Christmas morning.

"This confirms several things that I was suspicious about. Good work," he replies, smiling.

"What about what I saw in the cylinder, what was that?"

"I don't know yet; this is getting big; bigger than I thought. We both must be careful," he says, bending over the table and speaking low. "Give me the canister and papers with the chemical equations on them. I doubt that any chemist you could find here could make any sense of them."

I hesitate giving it to him since it was my only piece of evidence, then decide he is probably right. I handed him the suitcase with the cylinder in it.

"This could take a few weeks."

"What about Van Horneer in the hospital?"

"Tell him nothing." he says, looking at me intently. "In the hospital he is vulnerable. If they suspect that he knows about this, they may try to kill him like they did Humphrey and you. I'll call you when I have more information." After saying this, he gets up and leaves with the suitcase.

I watch him go out, once again wondering what I've gotten myself into.

End of Part 1.

Bio: I have submitted other stories for Aphelion as well as Schlock! webzine. I have stories published in the anthologies: Of Poets, Spies and Unearthliness, A Dickensian Steamfantasy—A very different 1800's, and, Exomoons—Natural and Unnatural Astronomical Bodies Orbiting Strange Planets, by Rogue Planet Press. I am now fully retired and I can now write in my new home.

E-mail: Randolph Stuart

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